


Detection, Attack, Capture, Consumption

by jedishampoo



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: 53, Gojyo/Sanzo - Freeform, M/M, Weird POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedishampoo/pseuds/jedishampoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gojyo’s sexy bandaging technique makes his medical attention all the more special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detection, Attack, Capture, Consumption

  
**Author’s Notes:** Again, please excuse my reposting all my older fics on the Archive. :)  This was a gift-ficlet for the wonderful artist Error246 because she has given so much to the Saiyuki community (and especially to the 53 community) with her steady stream of awesome, nommable artwork of all the boyz.  It was also an experiment in structure and POV that some feel failed, so oops?  
  
  
  
Some prey organisms adopt evolutionary antipredator adaptations to increase their chances of survival. Crypsis, or camouflage, is one method these organisms might use to help avoid detection as prey.   
  
So maybe, since every youkai in Togenkyo bar three-- well, maybe two-- was after him, you’d think that Sanzo might have learned to disguise himself. But no: he plopped his goddamned sutra right over his shoulders all visible and magical and shit, and he wore fucking white and gold so that, even in the haze of pre-dawn where the light was nothing but a thin, silver line on the horizon, he stood out like a whorehouse with a neon budget. Then he went traipsing around the countryside, alone, when he probably should’ve been sleeping.  
  
Gojyo knew this because he was following Sanzo. He was following Sanzo because he was concerned. And maybe he was nosy. ‘Cause maybe he wanted to see if Sanzo was going out to jerk off or sneak food or whatever else he thought he had to be alone to do.   
  
Whatever the case, if caught, Gojyo would say he was merely keeping an eye on Sanzo’s safety. If, by chance, he happened to satisfy his own curiosity and gather some tasty blackmail information at the same time, then that was merely a bonus and nobody else had to know.  
  
Sanzo made it all the way out of the quiet mountain town and about a half-mile up a steep little trail before he was attacked.   
  
“Ahahaheehee, we’ve found you! Give us the scripture, Genjyo San-- _urgh gurgle--_ ”  
  
There was a flash of chain and blade. That’s what had caused the urgh-gurgle.  
  
 _Blam! Blam! Blam!_ Sanzo’s weapon joined the fray.  
  
“Aieee! Shit, ya stupid monk. Watch where you’re shootin’--” Gojyo pressed his back against Sanzo’s, figuring it was the most bullet-free place to be at the moment.  
  
Sanzo didn’t appreciate the assist. “Back off, idiot. You’re too close.”  
  
“Hey, don’t shove me--” Gojyo yelled, too late. He grabbed Sanzo’s robe as he toppled over.  
  
“Aaaauugh!”  
  
“Arghshit!”  
  
 _Thumpthump crack thump crack thump--_  
  
Despite being inanimate, the cliff had camouflaged itself very well. The edge was covered with trees and branches and looked like undergrowth rather than the opening to a gaping chasm. Thankfully it was also more of a really steep hill than a cliff, or Gojyo and Sanzo might have been killed as they tumbled down through the brush and over the rocks to the bottom.  
  
Half a minute or so later they’d stopped rolling and grunting and thumping. Sanzo was blessedly unconscious. Gojyo found himself on his back, sprawled atop what felt like blessedly solid ground. He kept his eyes shut while he tested each of his limbs to be sure they were (a) still attached, and (b) working. They were both. He risked opening his eyes.  
  
Most of what he was sprawled over was flat, rock-strewn ground. Part of it was Sanzo, trapped under one of Gojyo’s legs. Gojyo hefted his leg off and righted himself and kneeled over Sanzo to have a closer look.   
  
Sanzo’s eyes were closed. He was scraped and covered in dirt and yet his hair shone and his cheeks had a healthy, pink glow. He looked as peaceful and gorgeous as Gojyo had never seen him, like he was sleeping, dreamless and pain-free. One might almost forget how deadly and bitchy an asshole Sanzo could be when he was awake.  
  
Aposematism, or warning coloration, is a secondary defense mechanism that warns potential predators of the existence of another primary defensive mechanism, such as unpalatability, poison or sting. The coloration is often quite beautiful despite its deadly warning.  
  
Sanzo didn’t wake when Gojyo lay a hand on his chest. He was breathing, however, his chest moving slightly with every breath. It was as close as Gojyo had ever gotten to Sanzo for an extended period of time without being yelled at or hit with the fan.   
  
“Stupid fucking monk,” Gojyo cursed, just for the hell of it, but did it quietly, in case their attackers were looking for them. He slid his fingers through Sanzo’s hair and felt bumps but nothing catastrophic. Further examination revealed that one of Sanzo’s arms was stretched out over his head at a weird-ish angle. Gojyo lifted the arm gently by the wrist and Sanzo moaned, though he still didn’t wake up. Gojyo laid Sanzo’s arm back down.  
  
Then he looked down at the rest of Sanzo and cursed again. Even in the morning half-light he could see a dark blot seep-spreading across the lower half of Sanzo’s white robe.  
  
“Dammit, dammit,” Gojyo whispered and found the opening to Sanzo’s robe and yanked it open. Sanzo wasn’t wearing his jeans or, in fact, any underwear. Gojyo hardly had time to give that fact the attention it deserved, however, because he could see a chunk of branch protruding from a jagged gash in Sanzo’s thigh. The wound was oozing with Sanzo’s pulse, soaking the splintered wood and smearing Sanzo’s lightly-haired, pale skin with angry red.  
  
“Nnnn,” Sanzo breathed, still out.  
  
“Nngh,” Gojyo moaned.   
  
A mile or so away, Hakkai slept more soundly than he had in a long time, unaware that Gojyo could have really, really used his help. Goku was snoring happily as well. He might have been helpful, too, if only to haul Sanzo’s carcass up the hill.  
  
Gojyo looked at Sanzo’s wound and his dirtied robe, then snuck a peek at Sanzo’s dick, curled against his uninjured thigh. Then he looked at his own shirt, washed yesterday and still somewhat clean-ish. With a sigh he shrugged off his jacket, then tore his undershirt into white strips. He folded one strip and took a deep breath.  
  
He gripped the slippery chunk of wood and yanked it out of Sanzo’s thigh. Blood thickly ooze-spurted from the empty gash and Gojyo shoved the folded piece of T-shirt over it. Sanzo moaned and his eyelids snapped open, revealing angry irises that might have been vivid purple except it was still dark out, so instead they looked black.   
  
Sanzo’s voice started out crackly but quickly turned loud and rough. “What the hell are you doing? Back off! Ouchshit!”  
  
“Hold still, monk, hell! Tryin’ to stop the bleeding. And shut up unless you want our _friends_ to hear ya.”  
  
Some predators have an attraction to the scent of blood or the sound of cries of pain, simply because it means that the victim is wounded and is therefore an easy target. Sanzo and Gojyo had actually killed all their attackers but one and _that_ unlucky assassin had been left at the top of the hill in a pool of his own blood, so they needn’t have worried. Still, they didn’t know that, so they worried.  
  
“Back off,” Sanzo whispered. He glanced down at himself and noticed that he was sort of spread-eagled and naked below the waist, that Gojyo was flattening his hand on his bare thigh and that it hurt like hell. At least, though, he could make sure he wasn’t on display for any passing pervert to see. When he tried to use his right arm to shove Gojyo off, however, his arm didn’t work correctly. In fact, using it stabbed his entire body with pain dire enough to make him nauseous. Sanzo barely choked back a shriek. He let his arm drop to his side.  
  
“I think your arm’s broke,” Gojyo told him.  
  
“Hah. Hah. Hah,” Sanzo breathed, hoping he wouldn’t throw up. When he felt stable enough to not do so he tried, very carefully, to shift his left arm from underneath him. The left arm worked fine and did not make him want to shriek or vomit. So he used his left arm to yank the edge of his robe down to cover his flopped-out dick.  
  
Gojyo wasn’t able to choke back his chuckle when he saw that.  
  
“Shut up. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”  
  
“Dunno,” Gojyo said, easing some pressure off Sanzo’s wound and lifting the edge of his makeshift pad to see if it had stopped bleeding. It had slowed down but Gojyo wanted to give it another few seconds or so. He pressed again, a little harder than was probably required to stop the bleeding.  
  
“Ow-- _nngh_! What the fuck does that mean? Were you following me?” Sanzo would admit that his head was a little fuzzy from being knocked about, but still knew that Gojyo should never have been with him in the first place.  
  
“Yeah, okay.” Gojyo lifted the blood-soaked pile of folded cloth and held it up for Sanzo to examine, a _take a look at that see I’m helping your ass so get the hell off my back, asshole_ little gesture. Then he dropped it on the ground.  
  
It was only then that Sanzo noticed that Gojyo was shirtless and a little blood-spattered. Sanzo wondered if the splatters were all Gojyo’s blood. He looked at the red-soaked square of cotton. He sighed. Gojyo was such an idiot and why was it his, Sanzo’s, fate to be ever saddled with idiots?  
  
“Why were you following me?” he asked. He tried to keep his voice reasonable and holding only the barest hint of warning. Gojyo was being conditionally allowed to touch Sanzo somewhat intimately, but Sanzo didn’t want it to go to Gojyo’s head or anything.  
  
“I.” _Was just curious. Think you’re kind of interesting sometimes. Hate you. Like looking at you, what of it?_ “Just wanted to see where the hell you were going, monk.”  
  
 _I was going out to jerk off in the woods in privacy, what of it?_ “That’s none of your-- hey! What the-- _nnnngh_!” Sanzo tried to reach out with his right arm and instantly regretted it. When the pain had subsided enough that he could think straight again he swatted at Gojyo with his good arm. The pervert was playing lift-and-spread or something with his legs.   
  
“I gotta bandage this up, then we can get you back to Hakkai,” Gojyo told him. “Bend your damned knees so I can wrap your leg! I’m trying to be nice and help you out, here.”  
  
Sanzo looked up the hill. His Smith and Wesson was probably lying somewhere along their downhill trail of destruction. He’d have to look for his gun, while climbing the steep hill. That would be difficult to do with an open wound.  
  
He dropped his head back onto the ground and clamped his left hand over his eyes. He sighed and relaxed his legs. “Fine. Hurry up.”  
  
“’Kay.” Gojyo inched forward between Sanzo’s thighs. He folded up another square and dabbed at the jagged, nasty-looking wound, brushing dirt from it. He should clean it, he knew, but they were close enough to town-- and someone who knew what he was doing (Hakkai)-- that he wasn’t too worried about it.   
  
He brushed around Sanzo’s thigh a little more, anyway. Sanzo’s leg twitched in a reflexy-looking reaction, and Sanzo made some sort of groany noise under his hand. It didn’t sound like pain-noise, though Gojyo couldn’t be sure. _Interesting._  
  
“Hurry _up_ ,” Sanzo repeated.  
  
“I got it!” Gojyo threaded a strip of cloth under Sanzo’s leg and around to the top, brushing Sanzo’s ass accidentally. _Probably_. Sanzo’s leg jerked again. _Even more interesting._  
  
Gojyo wondered if Sanzo had been in a hurry to get wherever he’d been going, or if he’d gone pantsless on purpose. He wondered how often Sanzo went around commando under his robe. He resolved in future to create opportunities to robe-check Sanzo.   
  
Then he wondered when he’d gotten so interested in Sanzo’s ass. It was a nice ass, but come _on_. Gojyo criss-crossed the ends of one white cloth-strip over the folded square atop Sanzo’s seeping wound, then looped another around Sanzo’s thigh. He brushed his fingers over the strips, flattening them just under the curve of Sanzo’s ass-cheek, watching for a reaction from Sanzo. He watched the little muscle-twitches, the part of Sanzo’s lips.   
  
A strike is an attack with an inanimate object or with a part of the body, intended to cause an effect upon an opponent or prey or to simply cause harm to the opponent or prey.   
  
Gojyo slowly and sexily wound a couple more strips around Sanzo’s leg, hoping they would hold till they got back to town.  
  
Sanzo was unaware of Gojyo’s somewhat prurient thought-process. He was trapped in his own sort-of misery as Gojyo’s fingers fumbled around close to his privates. Sanzo could picture those long-ass fingers in his mind-- fingers attached to a pervert, the kind of pervert who flaunted his sexuality for anyone to see or think about.  
  
Sanzo felt more brushes at his thigh and lifted his hand to see what the fuck the pervert was doing. The pervert was leaning over Sanzo’s crotch, his fingers sliding over Sanzo’s skin, his long red hair loose and falling down to swing and tickle at Sanzo’s bare leg. Gojyo tied a soft knot and the sharp pain in Sanzo’s thigh seeped into a general dull ache a little higher up. Oh _shit_.  
  
Sanzo’s dick twitched. Sanzo’s dick totally twitched under his robe and Gojyo totally saw it. It totally turned Gojyo on, big-time.  
  
Ambush predators, or sit-and-wait predators, capture prey by stealth or cunning, not by speed or necessarily by strength.   
  
Gojyo had two choices in that moment. He could (a) ignore it and pretend he hadn’t seen it, or (b) do something about it. Retreat or attack. Fuck that: he really only had one choice, because situations like this didn’t just sashay his way every day.  
  
Gojyo didn’t do shit half-assed, either. He shoved his hand under the edge of the robe and squeezed Sanzo’s stiffening cock.  
  
“You like it! Hah. Is it the pain or me that’s got you all hot, monk?”  
  
“You-- So fucking dead-- Hah-- Hah--” Sanzo breathed. He foolishly clenched his fist and prepared a punishing right, then regretted it an instant later because he had to breathe a few more times or lose consciousness. Then he swung a clumsy left that Gojyo batted away from his white-toothed, grinning mug and gleeful, red eyes. And in the meantime Gojyo, the fucking pervert from hell, had yanked at Sanzo’s dick a few times until Sanzo was stimulated and hard despite the pain and Sanzo wanted to die or maybe kill Gojyo and then die.  
  
“Embarrassed? Who’da thought. Oh, man,” Gojyo babbled, stroking Sanzo’s dick. Sanzo had a nice dick. It sure looked different all hard, but didn’t most of ‘em? And holy shit, Gojyo was probably like some kinda molester. Still, if Sanzo wasn’t hot for him then he, Gojyo, would have been dead already.   
  
“Idiot, asshole--” Sanzo swung with another left and Gojyo caught his wrist and pinned it to the dirt. Sanzo tried to kick Gojyo with his good leg but he didn’t have any leverage and Gojyo was closing his eyes and slowing the pace of his yanking on Sanzo’s dick, was getting all teasing, slow and sexy, like Sanzo had sworn to himself he’d never really wanted to see.  
  
“Didn’t I say I was tryin’ to help you?” Gojyo whispered. He’d be lucky to get out of this without being Makai-Tenjou’d. Maybe charm overload would help; Gojyo had plenty of charm. “Wouldn’t hurt you to let someone else help you out now and then…”  
  
“Didn’t ask for your help. _Nnn_ ,” Sanzo said as Gojyo swiped his thumb over the head of his cock, up under the skin there, spreading slick-sticky fluid over Sanzo’s aching flesh in slow circles. Sanzo found the entire experience to be rather fuzzy and dreamlike. Later he could blame it on his head-injury, but he was damned if it didn’t feel good right now. Besides: he’d come out here to jerk off, anyway, and maybe, at some time in the past, he’d jerked off while thinking about red hair and sexy eyes. If he had, that was his business and nobody needed to know about it.  
  
Their last youkai assassin, the one lying at the top of the hill in a pool of his own blood, finally gave up the ghost about then. It didn’t really matter because both Sanzo and Gojyo had forgotten their attackers in favor of paying attention to more interesting developments. Gojyo’s dick was hard and throbbing inside his tight jeans, getting tighter by the second, but he was having too much fun jerking Sanzo off-- or more accurately, giving Sanzo a nice, sexy hand-job-- to do anything for himself.   
  
Sometimes the predator locks its jaws around the muzzle or mouth of the victim and holds it until the prey has suffocated.   
  
Gojyo kept hold of Sanzo’s left wrist and dragged it up along the ground so he could slide up Sanzo’s body, hover over him face-to-face and capture his sharp _hah-hahs_ of breath from an inch away. He tried to get closer but Sanzo wasn’t having that intimacy. He grunted and turned his head so that Gojyo had to breathe Sanzo’s ear instead.   
  
Sanzo’s breath was coming in threes, _ha-ha-ha_ and his hips were doing a little roll-snap thing in time with Gojyo’s jerky rhythm. He was all flushed and sexy and irresistible. Gojyo figured it might be safe to release Sanzo’s hand, so he did.   
  
He’d been freed and yet he didn’t really care. Sanzo slapped his palm over his own face again, covering his vulnerability. Gojyo’s hand on his dick felt good: there it was, truthful and humiliating. And when he wanted Gojyo to speed it up Gojyo did without being asked to-- he was an idiot but he was good with his hands. The blood-aching burn thickened and built and tensed in Sanzo’s balls and his belly-- Gojyo had unzipped his jeans and was slapping his own meat, fast and hard, breathing hot _ahs_ into Sanzo’s shoulder--  
  
 _Gotta hurry and come before Sanzo_ , Gojyo was thinking. “Nnnn,” he moaned onto Sanzo.  
  
Too late: Sanzo tensed and came with a final _ha--…ha-ha_ , breath into his own palm and sticky come all over Gojyo’s wrist and his own thighs.   
  
“Shit,” Gojyo muttered while Sanzo breathed. _Too late_ : he let go his own dick to prop himself up so he could shake the cramps out of his Sanzo’s-dick-hand.  
  
“What are you doing, idiot?” came Sanzo’s low voice. Gojyo felt fingers digging into his hair and then a yank that dragged his head up and nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Finish it.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Gojyo muttered, looking down into Sanzo’s eyes, finally purple when seen from two inches away and in the newly-arrived dawn sunlight. He shivered at little at the intensity of Sanzo’s gaze. He tried to dislodge Sanzo’s hand in his hair with come-covered fingers. “You’re done, right? Let go.”  
  
Predatory animals often use their usual methods of attacking prey to inflict or to threaten grievous injury to their own predators.  
  
“No.” Sanzo jerk-yanked Gojyo’s hair again as he said it. “Finish. Or do you want to die?”  
  
Gojyo looked confused; he was an idiot even in sexual matters, when it came right down to it. Did he not understand mutual vulnerability, here? Still, Sanzo was sure Gojyo heard the true threat underlying his words: _I may not have my gun, but I will again. And I still have a sutra, dumbass_. Still, Sanzo noticed that the hard-on sticking out of Gojyo’s jeans hadn’t abated a damned bit. Sanzo yanked Gojyo’s hair again. “Ow! I won’t tell anyone, Sanzo. Swear.”   
  
“I know that,” Sanzo said. And stared.  
  
“Hah,” Gojyo coughed nervously. Sanzo was a scary, deadly asshole, sometimes. _The coloration is often quite beautiful despite its deadly warning_. Gojyo was so turned on it wasn’t even funny. He waggled his cramped fingers again before wrapping them around his own dick and giving it a test-yank or two that felt fucking amazing. “Ah…”  
  
“Too close. Back off, moron.” Sanzo let go of Gojyo’s hair, then grabbed his shoulder and shoved.   
  
“Yeah,” Gojyo said and rocked back until he was on his knees between Sanzo’s legs, jerking himself off under Sanzo’s intent gaze. Damn if the danger and the watching didn’t make every stroke better than the last, better than it’d ever been before without Sanzo watching. Gojyo gave himself a few hard squeezes and his whole body shuddered and Sanzo sighed and stared. Gojyo stared back: Sanzo’s legs were still spread and there were splatters of come all over Gojyo’s carefully-wound bandages. Damn, it was good to see.  
  
Sanzo had already come but his belly still twinged with pleasant thrums as he watched Gojyo work himself. Gojyo made a fine show of it, that was for sure. Gojyo was too good for his own good, and if that wasn’t the stupidest thought ever thought, then Sanzo didn’t know what was. He wondered if the red growing in Gojyo’s cheeks was embarrassment or arousal. Probably some of both. Still, he didn’t care what Gojyo got out of it: Sanzo wasn’t going to be the only one with his own come on his thighs.   
  
“Hurry it up. And don’t come on me,” Sanzo muttered, finally hauling himself to a sitting position without using his right arm and yanking his robes down over his crotch. He dug his lighter and smokes out of his sleeve, being careful not to jostle his broken arm, and lit a cigarette.  
  
Gojyo, meanwhile, was totally pretending that it was Sanzo jerking him off. When Sanzo let loose his first exhale with an orgasmic sigh, Gojyo smelled the smoke and shot his load, moaning.   
  
Sanzo said _hn_ and watched while Gojyo breathed and tugged the last few tremors of climax out of his tingling dick, and while he wiped his hand and tucked and zipped everything back into his jeans. Then Sanzo just looked away and smoked like nothing special had happened. Sanzo'd liked watching, though. Gojyo just _knew._  
  
Still, the atmosphere was all silent and thick and awkward between them as Gojyo dug a cigarette out of his jacket and lit it. God, he wanted to fuck Sanzo. Now he was gonna be consumed by Sanzo, poisonous and bitchy and totally not worth it, and _shit_ , that sucked. Didn't mean he wouldn't try at some point, anyway. He watched as Sanzo, wincing and clumsy, maneuvered himself to his feet. Gojyo grabbed his jacket off the ground and stood as well.   
  
“Oi, Sanzo,” Gojyo said when he couldn’t take the silence any longer. “I said I wouldn’t tell. I mean it. If-- ah, it happens ever. You know.”  
  
Sanzo looked up at the hill. He didn’t answer. He hadn’t yet decided where he and Gojyo stood.   
  
Some prey organisms adopt evolutionary antipredator adaptations to increase their chances of survival. If a signal is not honest, however, predators can quickly learn to ignore the adaptations. True predation results in certain death.  
  
 **END.** _Thanks for reading! Concrit & comments are always loved and appreciated._   
  
Did I screw the pooch on the POV or did it work?


End file.
